Lemondrop

After posting on Lemondrop looking for love advice, our Charity Case Scott began a long-distance flirtation with Georgia. Then the two met in person -- here, he tells us how it went.

Georgia picked me up at the airport wearing black thigh-highs, an accessory that I'd expressed a verging-on-pervy-but-not-quite fondness for. I think we unconsciously decided to skip the 'awkward phase' and simply pretend that bi-coastal jet-set dating is something we do all the time (or would do all the time, if we were more wildly impulsive and quite a bit wealthier).

We toasted our new-found acquaintance at a Vietnamese cocktail bar that was lit like a classy bordello. The awfulness of Aerosmith on the jukebox was offset by free popcorn, and we soon learned that we share at least one vice: a shameless obsession with people watching. (Some might call us "judgmental." I prefer "sociologically curious.")

Since a gentleman never tells, I'm going to keep my report here strictly PG-13. After passing the first, crucial obstacle -- enjoying each other's company, and not having our pheromones clash in a civil war of conflicting chemistries -- Georgia and I made the most of Los Angeles over the next few days.

We hit up LACMA museum, where we both dug a roomful of creepier-than-hell Cindy Shermans and realized we share a fondness for the gasoline tang from nearby La Brea Tarpits. We went bowling in Eagle Rock, and at the risk of immodesty, I sort of ruled at that one.

Later we hit up a house party nearby that was being thrown by a few of Georgia's dodgeball friends. There was a "jungle" theme. And in one of those instances of perfect LA-ness, both Mark the Cobrasnake and Ryan Gosling were in attendance, the latter dancing like a highly caffeinated Ian Curtis.

I'll let Georgia give her side of the story. It hasn't been all smooth sailing -- last night she called me out on my near pathological distaste for anything approaching a PDA. But overall, this crazy, spontaneous trip is proving to be a good thing.

Click here to read Georgia's account of the weekend.

I can't recall a nicer weekend in recent months than the long one I just spent with Scott, which came to an unpleasant end with the sounding of my alarm this morning.

That nervous, sweaty-palmed drive to the airport I took late Thursday night, the one where I'd break into a chorus of "oh my god oh my god oh my god" every ten minutes or so when I'd remember just what I was doing, seems like eons ago.

I had no reason to be nervous, it turns out, as Scott and I haven't had an awkward silence once, and I think it's safe to say we get along very well.

Dirty jokes peppered a relaxing day at the beach. Laughing behind our hands at the worst band either of us had ever seen, at my favorite venue. The biggest meal I've ever eaten that has quite possibly turned me off to pizza for the rest of my life.

We fell into a routine quickly. It involved unapologetic naps and daytime drinking, and I'll be sorry to see him go when his vacation is over. Those things don't sound nearly as appealing without the company of a terribly attractive guy, and considering Scott has also proven himself to be just as hilarious in person as he appeared to be via e-mail, I have a feeling I'm going to be hard-pressed to top the past three days anytime soon.

Tune in soon to hear whether Scott and Georgia's romance lasts.